


lamp light

by socorro



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Beta Abe, Crushes, Emotions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Mihashi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socorro/pseuds/socorro
Summary: the thing is, abe’s really not the type to be so quickly attracted to someone like this. attracted so viscerally, he thinks with disgust, to someone he barely knows. he’s met people that he’s immediately disliked -- that’s common, that’s familiar territory. this -- it leaves Abe feeling decidedly off-footed.
Relationships: Abe Takaya/Mihashi Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	lamp light

**Author's Note:**

> one year later... i'm back with a new abemiha fic

Tajima bursts into the classroom with a massive carton of coffee cradled in his arms.

“Good morning!”

Izumi gives a loud sigh from his corner of the room. “It’s 8pm.”

With a smile Tajima sets his prize down onto the front table and proceeds to shovels pink sugar packets and creamers from his pockets. Oki and Sakaeguchi are already halfway out their seats by the time Abe finally looks up from his shitty essay -- and does a double take at the man hovering behind Tajima. The newcomer blinks wide-eyed around the room as he gently places his armful of paper cups next to the coffee. He’s a spindly thing, swallowed in an oversized jacket that flops on his thin frame. A wool hat pushes coppery brown fringe into bright eyes. He looks young, baby faced maybe, cheeks flushed pink from the outside cold. Cute, Abe can’t help but think, and immediately tells himself to stop.

Some napkins go tumbling onto the floor and the stranger practically dives after them.  
“Everyone,” Tajima says, tugging at his companion until he stands up straight with fistfuls of napkins clutched in his hands, “this is Mihashi. Mihashi, everyone.”

“Um,” Mihashi says and then falls silent with a tense smile. He dumps his salvaged napkins into a crinkled pile on the table.

Shinooka, like the angel she is, goes around to offer proper introductions of everyone. Mihashi’s wan smile stays plastered on his face as greetings are passed around. Abe’s heart jumps when his eyes land on his, and he’s so surprised by his own reaction that he misses the way Hanai frowns from across the room. After months of pleading and bribes, the alpha finally caved into abusing his TA privileges to get them access to an empty classroom in the basement of the philosophy building. At least once a week they converge into a study group that has historically been less than productive.

Tonight the group descends upon the coffee en masse. Mihashi edges away from the mayhem, eyes even wider. Abe stays seated, because it’s fucking late and he’s not a heathen.

Abe returns his attention back to his paper. He hears a few people ask Mihashi some questions but can make out nothing beyond quietly stuttered responses. It’s not long before the coffee runs empty, an amazing feat, Abe thinks with dismay, and those gathered return to their seat to at least mime a level of productivity.

Tajima pulls Mihashi to an empty section of desks, slamming them together to make a little island. Abe slaps words down onto the page, slowly shambling together a decent first draft; dreading the upcoming torture that is citation. Mihashi stays glued to Tajima’s side and barely says a word to anyone. Abe looks only once to see their heads pushed together in a feverishly whispered conversation.

It takes a while for Abe to notice. He can finally admit that his sense of smell isn’t the best, and it’s only when the sound of awkward shuffling and chair scraping reaches a crescendo that he keys in on the rising scent of sour grass in the air.

No one mentions anything but Abe sees Hanai’s face twist from where he’s pouring over his textbook and how Shinooka shoots furtive glances towards the duo. The smell of distressed omega settles over the room, subtle and jarring like sand in your teeth. Abe stares down at his blinking cursor, mouth twisting, concentration suddenly broken. Mihashi looks increasingly distressed from where he sits. Tajima leans in closer with a frown on his face, says something that makes Mihashi’s whole body run tight with a line of tension.

They leave together less than an hour later.

A few short moments pass before the room erupts.

“That was bizarre,” Izumi says.

“Did I scare him?” Hanai asks the room at large.

Abe scoffs and rolls his eyes at Hanai, who’s somehow still under the impression that he’s this big intimidating alpha. “More like the other way around,” Abe says, punching out an aggressive line of type on his keyboard. “Did you breathe at all for the past hour?”

“Like once, maybe.”

Shinooka leans back in her chair, pen pressed to her bottom lip. It leaves a tiny blue mark on her skin. “You think they’re together?”

Several eyes dart to Hanai who put his hands up in defense. “He hasn’t told me.”

They’re silent again. Abe breathes in, the sour smell of anxious omega acrid on the back of his tongue.  
“I recognized him,” Sakaeuguchi says cautiously. “His scent, I mean, when he walked in. Tajima came by smelling like this sweet omega for the first time a month ago maybe? And now every few days it’s like he’s rolled around in it.”

“Wow,” Oki whispers with a hushed awe.

“Lucky,” Shinooka sighs wistfully. “He’s a cutie.”

“Fucking adorable,” Izumi nods.

No one is surprised when Mihashi doesn’t show up to their next study session. Abe angrily highlights his massive reading packet, and tries to ignore the nonsensical disappointment burning in his gut. He literally hadn’t spoken a single word to the man, there’s no reason for him to be disappointed. He has no clue what had set the omega off, but clearly something had stressed him out enough to flee like that the other night.

A sudden loud pounding sound breaks him from his thoughts. The clean neon pink line he was drawing tears into a jagged arch and Abe stares down at his paper in quiet dismay. Everyone turns to the back of the room where Izumi has shoved several desks together and spread a cutting mat over it. He’s surrounded by an array of paper, tools, and -- a brick? Abe stares. When the hell did he bring that in? The beta has an awl in one hand and is hammering it with a huge mallet. At the sudden hush in the room Izumi looks up from his work.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Abe asks when no one else does.

“I’m making a book,” Izumi responds dryly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Izumi returns to his work, pounding neat lines of holes into thick cardboard and heavy packets of paper. Abe’s watching as Izumi pulls a thick strand of thread through a block of wax when Tajima kicks the door open.

“Good evening, peasants!”

Abe sighs, puts down his highlighter, and switches to his statistics worksheet.

“Bro,” Mizutani says, head snapping around fast enough to cause whiplash. “What’s this about you having an omega?”

Tajima frowns and unloads several tomes onto the nearest empty table.

“He’s my friend,” Tajima says in an uncharacteristically short manner. And oh, that peaks Abe’s interest. Because the alpha has been strangely mum about giving details on the other night’s newcomer. And as one normally so eager to gossip, it’s unusual enough for Abe to note.

Mizutani throws a look at Shinooka who raises both eyebrows.

“He gonna join us again?” Mizutani tries.

Tajima laughs slowly as he settles into his chair, “Yea, no. Probably not.”

Abe comes across Mihashi two weeks later in the library. With midterms on the horizon the room is more crowded than usual. Abe is hunting through the aisles, increasingly despairing at the thought of sitting directly next to someone, when he catches a glimpse of bright hair.  
Abe pauses on the spot.

Mihashi looks even better out of the dingy basement gloom. In the daylight surrounded by dark wood and the smell of books, huge windows paint his hair orange and make his hazel eyes lighter than anything. Dressed in a thick sweater several sizes too big, he looks soft and inviting in a way Abe finds hard to ignore.

“Oh,” Mihashi gasps, when he looks up and notices Abe standing there like an idiot. They stare at each other for a few moments. Wide-eyed must be his default, Abe thinks, watching the other blink in surprise. “D-do you need to -- I can move --” Mihashi hastily condenses his pile of books and papers closer to his laptop and gestures at the newly cleared space in front of him. Abe drops into the proffered seat. He slowly takes out his study materials, trying to ignore the stare he can feel aimed at him. He’s so different from the night before, not a hint of the sour anxiety that clogged up the small classroom in the air. Instead there’s the smell of sweet clay, like that night Izumi dragged him down to the basement of the ceramic department at midnight. Like getting stuck in the rain on the way home. Clean earth, damp grass. Abe hadn’t noticed it before, in the short amount of time the other had been around. He finds himself liking it.

Mihashi smiles lightly, a nervous little thing, ready to tip and fall over at the slightest breeze, “Abe, right?”

Fuck is he cute, Abe thinks. It slams into him without his permission and, ok, that usually doesn’t happen. He considers the way something in him had jumped, eager, when their eyes met for the first time. How he’d literally stopped in his tracks upon seeing him a second time. All very telling signs of -- what? Abe pulls himself together long enough to respond.

“Abe Takaya,” he nods.

Mihashi extends his arm for a handshake and seems to regret it immediately, going red and sputtering, “Oh! S-sorry, I don’t know why I--”

“Handshakes are fine,” Abe shrugs. They shake. His dumb hindbrain zooms in on the fact that the omega’s hands are just a little bigger than Abe’s.

“Mihashi?”

Mihashi bobs his head up and down, looking shocked that Abe remembered.

The thing is, Abe’s really not the type to be so quickly attracted to someone like this. Attracted so viscerally, he thinks with disgust, to someone he barely knows. He’s met people that he’s immediately disliked -- that’s common, that’s familiar territory. This -- it leaves Abe feeling decidedly off-footed. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with this.

  
He never really got it when others talked about meeting someone and _knowing_. Meeting eyes from across the bar and knowing they’d take them home that night. Meeting and knowing with gut wrenching surety that they were mates, a fated pair, meant to be --

Not that this fits either of those scenarios, Abe thinks with haste. Not that sort of blinding, burning whatever all those stories describe. Especially since Mihashi has given no real reaction besides polite and only that. But it’s abnormal, what’s happening right now. Enough to catch Abe’s attention and keep it.

They work without saying anything else to each other. The room gets more crowded throughout the day, latecomers slouching into every available chair. There’s a quiet hum in the air, the sound of shifting pages, muted music from headphones, the clacking of keyboards.

  
Abe tries to glean details from the mess haloed around the omega. A physics textbook sits open with dog-eared pages, a notebook with messy notes beside it. He’s got ink smudged on his fingers has trouble concentrating, picking up his phone constantly, sighing softly into the air and tapping his pen against the table.

It’s a while longer when Mihashi yawns hugely and slumps down into his chair, head pillowed against the chair back. He stares listlessly at the ceiling.

“You okay?” Abe can’t help but ask.

“I’ve been here since eleven,” Mihashi answers with overwhelming remorse.

Abe glances at his screen. It’s four.

“You should take a break.”

Mihashi groans miserably and closes his eyes. Abe stares at the curve of his neck, the jut of his Adam's apple, the angle of his jaw.

“Get up, stretch your legs.”

Mihashi sighs, tilts his head to stare down at his collage of books and papers. “I guess…” he agrees slowly but doesn’t move for a long moment. Abe stares now at his face. Here, thick brows frame big eyes, a small delicately curved nose, lips chapped and peeling. Abe jerks when Mihashi’s attention rises to him, but Mihashi doesn’t seem to notice he’d caught him staring. “C-can you watch my stuff?”

“Yea,” Abe nods dumbly, “of course.”

Mihashi rises from his seat and stretches, a tightly pleased sound escaping as bones crack. Abe feels his ears burn. He sternly returns his attention back to his work. Mihashi bumbles from the table.

Half an hour passes until Abe realizes that the omega has been gone for what is probably too long. He looks up at the empty chair across from him, scans the crowded room to no avail. Another fifteen minute pass. Well, Abe thinks. He doesn’t want to just leave his stuff there but he does have to leave soon. Maybe there’s a lost and found he can drop everything off at?

He sits there in deliberation for a few moments longer before a solution comes to him. He pulls up his phone and opens up his messages.

**Abe: You got Mihashi’s contact info?**

**Tajima: yea?**

**Tajima: why??**

**Abe: He left his stuff in the library. Been gone for a while.**

**Tajima: ok he’s on his way thanks.**

**Tajima: u still gonna b ther in 10?**

**Abe: Yes**

**Tajima: k**

**Tajima: he’ll be there soon**

Mihashi re-appears in a frazzled state, jerking towards the table with his hands twisted together.

“I’m s-so sorry!” Mihashi says frantically, already fumbling to gather his things. He harshly yanks his charger out of the port and throws it in his bag with his laptop. Papers crunch as he shoves books inside. A few people look their way, because Mihashi’s being kind of loud in his haste. Abe frowns, wants to tell him to slow down, but doesn’t really know how to approach the sudden anxiousness that seems to be gripping him.

“Is everything alright?” He asks slowly.

“Y-yes. Thank you so much, I’m sorry again!”

He gathers the last of his things and practically dashes away, gone just as quickly as he re-appeared. Abe watches his retreating form feeling slightly vexed. Fleeing again, too much like the other night.

With a sigh he gathers his things at a much more sedate pace. He’s a little concerned, maybe, but he’s also got a three hour lab coming up and no time to be distracted.

As things go, Abe seems to run across the omega more and more after this. He learns over the course of the next month bits and pieces. He’s a year beneath Abe, a second year. He met Tajima when they took a class together over winter break. He can never sit still and is highly, _highly_ food motivated.

Abe’s in the library again, biology midterm looming on the horizon, and it seems like every seat in the building is taken. He stalks down the aisles, frustration bubbling when even his most favorite and isolated spot on the third floor is claimed. He paces back downstairs, retracing his steps in hopes that someone has gotten up and left in the minutes he’s taken in his search, when he hears tapping against glass. Abe stops and turns towards the sound. He’s on the second floor now, where most of the private study rooms are. Small spaces filled with a single round table and whiteboard. He looks over to see Mihashi in said room, hand still raised against the glass door. The omega opens the door expectantly so Abe makes his way over.

He looks tired, Abe notices, dark circles under his eyes and teeth caught harshly in his lip. His hair is frazzled, like he’s run his hands through it several times. Abe can feel himself frowning, and that seems to kick Mihashi into action.

“U-um,” he starts, hands wringing. So nervous. “Y-you can come in -- if you’d like! If -- if you’re looking for a seat. Um,” and then his eyes widen in horror, “un-unless you were leaving! I’m sorry -- I should let you --”

“Stop,” Abe says. Mihashi snaps his mouth shut and seems to curl into himself. Abe wonders at this. Maybe it’s just the stress of exams. Abe knows his own temper has been notched higher than usual the past week.

“I’ll join you, if that’s okay.”

“Y-yes, please,” Mihashi pushes the door open wide enough to let Abe inside. It slides shut with a hiss behind him and Abe notices for the first time that someone else is in the room. The man sits at one side of the table with a placid smile on his face as he looks up at Abe. “Hello,” he says politely.

Abe returns the greeting, feeling suddenly awkward. Mihashi flutters back to the table. “H-here, sit!” Abe let’s his bag drop to the ground with a heavy thunk and pulls out a chair across from the pair.

“Um, t-this is Suyama. He tutors me in -- in english!”

“Hello,” Suyama says again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Abe says.

“Here,” Suyama says, pushing over a container towards the middle of the table. Abe raises an eyebrow and peers at the neat row of cookies inside.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have food in here.”  
Suyama shrugs and smiles. Mihashi sits on his knees in his chair and leans forward. “Th-they’re good! You should try some.”

So Abe obediently picks up a cookie and pops it into his mouth. They are good, buttery and not too sweet. Mihashi seems more pleased by Abe’s approval than Sayuma, wiggling in his seat as he reaches for his own.

“Well, should we continue?” Suyama asks. He doesn’t have much of a scent. A beta maybe, like Abe. Or on scent blockers. Anyways, his scent is just as unobtrusive and polite as his personality. Abe still feels like he’s butted into their study session, so he takes out his headphones and hunkers down to get some real work done--

\--Until a familiar scent catches his attention. Not much time has passed, half an hour maybe, when the rising anxious sour smell reaches him. He takes out his earbuds.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Suyama is saying gently. Mihashi sits hunched with a hand in his hair as Suyama slides the worksheet towards himself. He erases the line written there, which seems to make Mihashi sink further into despair, and softly explains a conjugation. Mihashi’s fingers tighten in a way that looks painful from where Abe is sitting.

“Do you get it,” Suyama asks, after going through his explanation. “Try this one.”

Mihashi pulls the worksheet towards him and reads over the problem. Abe can see the frustration running through the omega and it’s clear that he doesn’t understand. He writes down a few words, hastily erases them and scrawls out a few more.

“I’m sorry,” Mihashi mutters when he can’t write anymore.

“It’s okay,” Suyuma says again, “What don’t you understand?”

Mihashi shakes his head and whines. Abe's felt this sort of frustration. But this seems to be something more, a deep shame that Abe doesn’t have enough context to understand. A hopelessness that seems to be drowning the omega where he sits.

Suyama looks at Abe from over Mihashi’s head, smile belying the worry he can see in his eyes. Abe closes his book loudly, the noise jolting Mihashi out of his stupor.

“I need coffee,” he announces to the room at large. Abe stares down at wide eyes, now tinged red. “Do you want coffee?”

“I d-don’t -- drink? --”

“Tea, then. Come on.”

Mihashi just sits, stunned. “I need to study.”

“You can take a break,” Suyuma interjects kindly, gesturing at the pages before him. “While I look these over.”

Mihashi looks at the table, eyebrows bunched.

“Hey,” Suyuma soothes, laying a hand over the omega. Abe stares at where they touch. “You’re doing well. Take a break.”

“O-okay,” Mihashi agrees reluctantly. Abe waits by the door as Mihashi bundles himself in a hat and jacket.

Cold air snaps against Abe’s skin like a rubberband. He takes a huge breath, sending frosty cold through his lungs. “Come on,” Abe says to Mihashi, who follows sedately behind him. They cross the street and make their way to the cafe shop on the corner.

What can he say? Don’t worry so much? You’ll be fine? Abe has no clue what the omega’s situation is. Maybe he’s on scholarship, maybe this exam will make or break him, it’s none of his business. Still. Even in the short amount of time Abe has known him, he can see how hard Mihashi works. He knows that doesn’t always translate into good grades for everyone.

“Thank you,” Mihashi smiles when Abe offers to pay, mood so easily turned by a sweet drink. And oh, Abe had nearly forgotten. His heart reminds him now, fluttering in his chest as if to scream _your big fat crush is still here, and he’s here, smiling at you_. And what a smile, always so delicate, blink and you’ll miss it.

“I have to work hard,” Mihashi confesses on the way back. “Because I’m not smart.”  
Abe sips at his coffee, shrugs. “People learn differently, at different rates. Doesn’t mean you’re not smart.”

Mihashi doesn’t say anything, doesn’t smile again, but something pleased comes into his step.

The group gathers for karaoke to celebrate the end of midterms. Mihashi is already there and, it seems, well on his way to getting drunk. Abe lets Shinooka force a tambourine into his hand and nearly fights Mizutani when he shoves a mic under his nose for the fourth time and yells at him to sing. Hamada pulls Mihashi up and together with Oki they perform an impromptu two-step for the next song and a half. None of them can dance and they collapse into a giggling mess.

Mihashi crawls over to the table determined to pick over the remaining snacks. Tajima, sitting nearby, drapes himself over the omega. Mihashi lets himself be pulled against the sofa, settling in the space between Tajima’s legs. In the span of the next few minutes, Abe watches the way Tajima combs his hand through Mihashi’s hair, fingers brushing against his sideburns, leaving gentle touches across his cheek and jaw.

Abe’s never seen this side of him -- of either of them -- and he finds himself unable to look away. He’d noticed it during their last study session, the slight change in scent. It’s more prominent now even in the press of bodies in this small room, and Abe realizes it for what it is -- a heat. Or pre-heat, to be more exact, not exactly notable by itself but clear with the way Mihashi is acting and the way Tajima is reacting.

“Damn,” Tajima laughs, catching Mihashi into an embrace that makes him huff and squirm, pleased. “Look at you.”

Mihashi smiles, slow as molasses, lets his head rest against the cushion between Tajima’s thighs. Tajima hums and brings his hand down to tap his fingers against Mihashi’s throat. Mihashi swallows, adam's apple jumping. Sweet smelling grass cuts sharply through the air. Something dark and hot tears through Abe.

“Such a pretty, perfect omega,” Tajima coos. “Do you know how special you are?”

Mihashi shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks, visible even in the technicolor lights of the room. Tajima cups Mihashi’s throat more fully, hand big against his slender neck. Abe watches as Mihashi’s breath shallows out, chest rising and falling in short bursts. His eyes are closed now, head tilted back, face flushed like he’s run miles. 

“So special,” Tajima murmurs. Mihashi whines lowly, eyes drooping, body going loose. Tajima’s thumb skims over Mihashi’s scent gland, slick now with attention and glimmering in the low light. “I’m so lucky.”

At this point everyone’s eyes are glued on the pair. The selection menu music blares loud and forgotten in the background. Mizutani stares with his mouth wide open. Hanai has a pained look on his face, tense in his seat. A hot mix of jealousy and arousal stirs through Abe but he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene.

Tajima looks up.

“Oops,” he chuckles, playing lighthearted. His scent hangs musky in the air, dirty with arousal.

He draws his hand away and Mihashi curls into himself. “Sorry, sorry,” Tajima says, sounding far from apologetic. “Can I leave for a second?”

Mihashi nods with his head buried in his arms. Tajima vaults from his chair, his hard-on painfully obvious in his joggers, and disappears into the hallway. A stunned silence fills the air.

“Sorry,” Mihashi squeaks.

At least three people jump in to tell him it’s okay. Hanai eventually excuses himself as well. Mihashi makes a miserable sound from the floor.

“This is why everyone thinks you’re together,” Izumi says. Mihashi hugs himself more tightly but stays silent for a long time. And then--

“I n-need some air,” he stands suddenly, wobbly at first, before stumbling from the room as if dogs were snapping at his heels. On instinct Abe climbs out of his seat to follow.

Abe finds him outside the main entrance, pacing aside from where a few people are smoking in small groups. The evening’s grown dark and chilly, sky cloudy like it wants to rain again. Mihashi has his arms wrapped around himself as he moves. He seems to notice Abe right away and lurches further from the building like he wants to run. Something in Abe’s gut wrenches as he watches. He consciously slows his steps and Mihashi paces away, leaving the harsh halo of lights for inky darkness. With growing alarm Abe thinks he really will leave until he sees Mihashi throw himself onto a bench several paces away and fold over his knees.

 _Oh fuck_ , Abe thinks and hastily makes his way over. He’s seen versions of this several times now. The despair that seems to rise up and consume the omega until he shakes with it, until his words break apart and tears cut rivers down his face. Mihashi seems to be in the throes of it now and the closer Abe gets the more he can see how tightly his fingers are gripping his hair. He can hear the deep deliberate breaths that go until they can’t anymore, until they turn tight and wheezing.

Panic alights in Abe. This is worse than what he’s witnessed in the school library, in the semi-privacy of the study room, during late night trips to the vending machine when exhaustion is etched in every line of Mihashi’s body. And Abe is probably the least equipped person to deal with this -- feels helpless against this moment as with all the others -- but he can’t watch Mihashi twist himself tighter and tighter, tensed and ready to snap. He swallows and feels an answering tightness in his throat.

“Mihashi,” he says and his voice feels too loud in the darkness, his concern too abrasive. He doesn’t touch Mihashi, is nearly sure that’d be the wrong move here, but he feels awkward hovering above him so he gets on his knees in front of the omega. Cold seeps through his jeans and maybe this is too much but Abe feels gripped by an urgency that he can’t ignore.

“Mihashi,” he tries again, gentling his voice as much as he can but Mihashi doesn’t seem to register his words. Abe listens to him breathe and breathe and breathe as his mind races through what to do. Should he call for someone? For an emergency... would that be too much? It sounds like agony, like the air is trapped in the omega’s chest, each breath loud and wheezing as if clawing their way through.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, screen blinding in the darkness. His hand trembles as he unlocks it. He opens his contacts, still reeling at what to do -- and startles when a hand comes down over his screen. Abe jerks his head up.

He still can’t meet Mihashi’s eyes with the way they’re tilted away. “No?” he asks slowly.

Mihashi shakes his head and Abe lets his phone go dark. “Okay, just --” he shuffles closer and feels helpless. “What do you need?”

It seems to take Mihashi a while to find his words. When he can he asks, unsure. “Can I - h-hold your hand?”

Abe hurries to pick up Mihashi’s hand in his own. “Of course,” he says and laces their fingers together. He can feel the other’s pulse racing beneath his fingertips and he sits down beside the omega on the bench. Mihashi brings both legs up to curl his free arm around them, tucks his face into his knees and turns his head away.

Abe sits and listens to him breathe, feels the tremble that comes and goes in pulses. He’s unnervingly quiet now and Abe stares out at the night sky. He’s not sure how long it takes until Mihashi unfurls, slowly like all the energy’s been squeezed from him. His grip on Abe’s hand loosens but neither of them move to separate.

“S-sorry,” Mihashi says in a voice that’s rubbed raw.

“You’re okay,” Abe murmurs. Mihashi smiles. It’s a small listless thing -- so unlike the sparks Abe’s managed to catch the past month that he nearly can’t bear the wrongness of it. He lets himself look closely now. Mihashi’s eyes are rimmed red, all the tight tension from earlier replaced with exhaustion. Heavy, weighted. 

Silence hangs thick in the air for a long moment. Mihashi squeezes Abe’s hand one last time before letting go.

“I never thought I could be close to an alpha,” Mihashi says eventually, after he’s done crying. “Even before I… before. T-they were always so--”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Abe hurries, because he feels like Mihashi’s in a state where he might confess anything, tell him things with a trust that he’ll come to regret soon after.

Abe knows how alphas can be. His dad is an asshole. His brother, newly presented, is also an asshole. But they both grew up tip-toeing around their father’s temper and Shun’s not like that. Shun’s not cruel, and is self-aware enough to take critique without ego. Abe’s proud of him for that. A huge part of Abe was relieved when he presented as a beta. The thought of mixing volatile hormones with his own unique mix of issues had terrified him. He’s too much like his dad as it is. Maybe that’s not fair, but he can’t help the relief he still feels over it.

“Just now,” Mihashi continues, “how easily I--” he stops and hugs his arms around himself, gaze drifting off to the side. Something cold settles in Abe, a sudden sickening guilt. A ringing alarm running parallel to it. He wants to rip something apart, the anger so sudden and jolting that Abe reels with it. He wants to find Tajima and shake him, wants to hit himself because he sat bystander with everyone else with nothing but jealousy broiling at the forefront of his mind.

“He crossed a line,” is all Abe can manage to say when he can put words together again. 

“I trust him.”

“I know. But if you didn’t want him to do what he did you have to tell him--”

“I _liked_ it,” Mihashi presses, “it felt _good_.” He brings a hand up to cup his own neck, where Tajima touched him earlier. “No one’s ever… no one’s--”

“Okay,” Abe cuts in as calmly as he can, though his heart is racing in his chest. “That’s okay. If it felt good. That’s not bad--”

“It’s _bad_ ,” Mihashi insists stubbornly. “ _It’s bad_.”

“Mihashi!” Abe pulls away until glassy eyes meet him. “You’re in pre-heat. He’s an alpha and you’re close to him. Don’t feel bad about how you reacted.” 

Mihashi blinks at him, tears glistening on his eyelashes. _So pretty, even like this_. Abe sighs and wishes he could slap himself.

“Even if it felt good in the moment, it doesn’t feel good now, and that’s what’s important.”

Mihashi nods, sniffling quietly.

Abe’s not sure what to think. There are still people out there who believe alphas and omegas can’t be friends. Abe doesn’t prescribe to that ideology but even amongst people their age it’s still a thing that dictates interactions. Abe hasn’t seen a relationship quite in the same vein as Tajima and Mihashi. Even without their genders involved they’re a unique pair. He can see the potential for friendship just as easily as he can see the potential for more. They just have that kind of chemistry.

And yet he’s never seen Mihashi flirt with anyone. He’d never heard Tajima call Mihashi _omega_ or touch him like he was his. He’s never seen anything make Mihashi spiral so hard and so quickly.

It takes Mihashi a few more minutes to settle. By the time he does, he’s shivering and worn.

“Come on, it’s cold,” Abe says as he rises. Mihashi makes a concerned sound in the back of his throat and Abe looks down to see stains pressed into the knees of his pants. Mihashi jerks forward to brush away the dirt and mud. “It’s fine,” Abe hurries, joining to brush uselessly at the fabric, this somehow being the thing that makes his eyes burn. This concern for him even now.

“ _I said it’s fine_.”

Mihashi flinches and a few more tears escape down his face. He wipes at them hastily and Abe feels like he’s undone any good he’s made tonight.

“Let’s head back. Okay?” Mihashi looks tired all over again but he nods and together they make their way inside.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been sitting on this fic for a while. these are trying times, and i really have nothing else to offer but this. stay safe and healthy everyone!
> 
> more to come
> 
> follow me at socorro-me.tumblr.com where i talk exclusively about oofuri


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